5 Times McCoy Helped Someone with Love and 1 Time
by la fille des legumes
Summary: Dr. McCoy is a gruff, grumpy, bitter old man with a bad track record when it comes to romance. So why do so many people want his help with their relationships? Gaila knows.


Title: 5 Times McCoy Helped Someone with Love and 1 Time Someone Helped Him  
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Sulu/Chekov, Uhura, Cupcake/Rand, McCoy/Gaila  
Rating: PG-13  
Summery: Dr. McCoy is a gruff, grumpy, bitter old man with a bad track record when it comes to romance. So why do so many people want his help with their relationships? Gaila knows.  
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff with a dash of angst.

Disclaimer: This is Paramount's anthill; I'm just poking it with a stick.

A/N: This is set in the "Tomorrow 'verse"; however reading the other stories isn't necessary.

5. Cupcake

He was on his lunch break the first time a crew member approached him with a non-health related sex problem. He had been quietly sitting there eating his chicken sandwich and looking over an article about Rigelian flu on his PADD when the security officer known as 'Cupcake' approached him.

"Excuse me, Dr. McCoy, Sir; I was wondering if I could speak with you." He said, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

McCoy sighed and glanced at his lunch. Why did they have to bother him on his lunch break? Why couldn't they just come down to sick bay when he was on duty? McCoy looked back at the large fidgeting man standing across from him.

"Sit down, lieutenant ….what's your name again?" McCoy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Franklin, Sir," Cupcake said sitting across from the good doctor.

"So, what's your problem?" asked McCoy while taking a bite of sandwich.

"Well, sir…" He started and looked down at his hands, "um…you see, there's this girl…and, well, I…I…"

"You what, Lieutenant? I'm not going to have to deliver any babies on this ship, am I?" McCoy growled

"No, Sir! It's nothing of that nature, sir." Franklin said hurriedly, "I just don't know how to talk to her is all. I was wondering if maybe you could, you know, help me write her a…poem or two."

McCoy choked on his sandwich and Franklin looked down at the table blushing furiously.

Having recovered from his coughing fit McCoy looked at him incredulously, "What makes you think I know the first thing about writing love poems?"

"You seem to have a way with words, Sir, and a southern gentleman like yourself would probably be better at sweet talking a lady without offending her. That and you generally seem to have more success in relationships than I do. You are married aren't you?"

At this point McCoy was looking at him like he had just morphed into a klingon with three heads. He seemed to cower under McCoy's gaze.

"Correction, I _was _married to a crazy she-bat! As far as relationships go my track record is less than mediocre, and why would anyone consider 'my way with words' conducive to romance?"

"I…I'm sorry I wasted your time, Sir. I'll ask someone else." Franklin said trying to steel his front and retain his dignity.

"I didn't say no, lieutenant." McCoy said; a pained half smile on his face.

"Really, Doctor? You'll help me?" McCoy could see the grateful excitement growing in Franklin's eyes.

"Yeah, what the hell. Meet me in rec. room 3 after the end of Alpha shift." McCoy shrugged.

"Thank you, Sir!"

"Don't mention it, _ever_."

"Of course not, Sir," Franklin replied shaking his head.

"I mean it. Tell anyone and you'll find a particularly nasty hypo with your name on it," McCoy grumbled.

Cupcake nodded and left McCoy to finish his lunch. McCoy picked up his PADD and typed a quick message to Jim.

To: Capt. Kirk, James T.

From: Lt. Cmdr. McCoy, Leonard H.

Re: I need a favor

'You wouldn't happen to have any poetry books I could borrow for a few hours, would you?'

He hit send, returned his tray and went back to sick bay to finish his shift.

~o~

Several hours later he was sitting at a table in the far corner of rec. room 3 with 2 books (real, honest to god, paper books) sitting in front of him entitled 'Zombie Haiku: Good Poetry for Your…Brains!' and 'Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Poets on the Verge of Death'. Leave it to Jim to have the two weirdest sounding poetry books in the known universe. Well, at least it wasn't logical Vulcan poetry. He wouldn't put it past Jim to have some of that too; he has seen the way the Captain looks at Spock when he is bent over the science scanners.

Cupcake walked in and sat down at the table with him. He looked at the books on the table, confused.

"Before you say anything they aren't mine, they're the Captain's," Said McCoy, as if that explained everything.

Apparently it did because Cupcake nodded in understanding.

"Even if the actual content is useless at least we can look at the form. Haikus can't be that hard. Right?" He said with a note of uncertainty.

Three hours later they were still sitting there with nothing…

"What rhymes with romance?" Cupcake asked from behind his PADD.

"Dance…chance…pants… I wouldn't use that last one though, unless you want to get slapped," Replied McCoy while idly flipping through the ku of the undead.

He read one silently: 'My newest habit

is chewing on my forearms.

It slows the crawling.' *

'Really, Jim…really…this is the crap you read?' was all he could think to himself. He heard Franklin sigh from across the table.

"You know, you could always give the old 'roses are red' bit a go." McCoy tells him, trying not to cringe while reading another zombie poem.

"I could…" Cupcake said, grabbing a napkin that was lying on the table and scribbling furiously on it. "What do you think?" He asks, passing the napkin to McCoy.

"Roses are red; Violets are blue.

Space is cold; I want to cuddle with you…." McCoy looked at him and raised an eyebrow, "There is a fine line between cute and creepy, and this is straddling it."

"Yeah…I think I'm going to call it a night. I'm out of inspiration." Franklin replied standing and folding the napkin.

"Good night, lieutenant." McCoy said standing as well.

~o~

By noon the next day he had a message on his PADD from Cupcake. He opened it and wasn't sure whether to be amused or to acquaint his face and his palm.

To: Lt. Cmdr. McCoy, Leonard H.

From: Lt. Franklin, Robert

Re: It worked!

I gave her the poem on the napkin! I gave her a cupcake and I put it on the napkin with the poem. After she saw she giggled and asked me to have dinner with her! Thank you so much Dr. McCoy!

McCoy didn't know for sure who this mystery woman was, but he had seen Yeoman Rand in the mess hall with a cupcake and a suspiciously folded napkin. He didn't know how it had succeeded, but he wasn't going to question it. Unless there were STDs involved or worse, pregnancy, then there would be questions…and hypos.

* * *

*Zombie Haiku, Ryan Mecum; Pg. 111

4. Uhura

It had been a particularly uneventful week in the neutral zone. Everything seemed to be fine, perfectly normal; unless you knew what to look for, because for Nyota Uhura the week was distinctly not fine. Anyone who worked with her regularly knew there was something off. She never dropped a sub-space call or mistranslated anything, but this week she had done both and she wasn't doing much better that morning. She had dropped her earpiece twice and had completely failed to hear two direct requests from the Captain. Kirk knew there was something wrong, what he didn't know was the cause. For all he knew she was going space-happy. So he did what any concerned starship captain would do, he sent her to sick bay.

"Well, physically you're in perfect health, which means whatever is wrong is a personal issue." McCoy stated, helping her up from the bio-bed, "Want to talk about it?"

Uhura shook her head glumly.

"Come on you can trust me; I'm sworn to secrecy by law. Unless I have just cause to believe that you have harmful intent toward yourself or others. In that case I would be morally and ethically bound to intervene." He coaxed.

That's when he saw the lone tear slide down her delicate cheek.

"Lieutenant…Nyota, tell me." He said gently placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The flood gates broke and she pulled him to her, burying her face in shoulder, sobbing. All he could do was keep his hand on her shoulder and pat her back with the other. He looked around sickbay and noted that none of gossip loving nurses there to witness the scene.

"Come on; let's get you to my office. We don't want the gossip mill spreading this all over the ship."

He steered her in through the door into his small office and sat her down in the chair in front of his desk. He dragged his chair around from the other side of the desk and sat next to her. Her sobs had quieted into a steady flow of silent tears. She looked completely heartbroken, and he'd be damned if he didn't know exactly what that felt like.

"Nyota," He said gently, handing her a tissue.

"I told him…I told him that I loved him…" she croaked, looking down at the floor, "and he said he felt _sorry_ for me because he could never love me back… he said…he said that he _can't_ feel love."

"Well, he _is_ a Vulcan." McCoy knew it was a poor choice of words when he said it.

"He's lying! I know he can feel love…I've seen how much he loves his mother, his career…I've seen the looks he gives Kirk when he thinks no one is watching, he just can't love _me_." Her tears of heartbreak had turned bitter with resentment, McCoy knew those too.

McCoy placed his hand on her small shoulder, "What you need is a friendly ear and a stiff drink, I go off duty in an hour. I'll tell the Captain that you're on medical leave until tomorrow afternoon because of 'lady problems', he won't question that, trust me."

Uhura just nodded her head and got up to leave.

"Hey," McCoy stopped her, "It might seem like the end of the world, but it's not. I promise."

That night they sat in McCoy's quarters, a quickly emptying bottle of whisky between them. She cried while recounting her affair with Spock; she told him how wonderful it had all been until she said those 3 fateful words. He told her about Jocelyn and how he had come home one day to find that all of his belongings had been packed and left in the front yard in the rain. He told her about their last fight and how his little girl had begged him not to go; a single longing tear slide down his cheek at the memory.

After a few more rounds the conversation lightened and turned to a drunken appraisal of the other single men on board. Because, hell, so what if she couldn't have Spock? That Scotty fellow down in engineering was a funny, brilliant man, and he had a nice ass too!

3. Chekov and Sulu

He wasn't quite just how it had happened, but here he was in the officer's sitting across the table from Ensign Way-to-young-to-be-here and Lieutenant Green-thumb; also known as Chekov and Sulu. Now it wasn't that he didn't like the pair, he was actually quite fond of the two of them, it was just that watching the two of them interact was making him nauseous.

The two of them had been sitting there quite as church mice picking at their food and playing an elaborate game of cat-and-mouse eye sex. They would sneak glances at each other in between bites when they thought the other wasn't looking. Occasionally their eyes would meet and they would both look down at their respective trays blushing, taking another bite of whatever the replicator decided to call food today.

It was driving McCoy nuts. They were just too goddamn adorable! He couldn't decide whether he wanted to vomit or leave. Instead of those he settled for frustrated yelling.

"Goddamn it! If you're gonna fucking kiss him, then kiss him already!"

The whole mess hall fell silent and McCoy could feel the heat of staring eyes on him. Sulu and Chekov were staring at him from across the table eyes wide with shock. McCoy wanted to sink into the deck and disappear. He covered his face with his hands and hit his forehead against the edge of the table; which is why he missed the newly enlightened smiles that were exchanged between the two young officers.

4. Jim and Spock.

The fact that they couldn't figure out their mutual attraction to each other on their own was appalling. After all, weren't they supposed to be geniuses? They had both come to him within a day of each other, Spock first and then Jim, complaining about strange dreams. He was shocked that it had taken this long for their desires to manifest in their subconscious minds; really, they'd been sneaking not so clandestine looks at each other for ages.

All the two of them needed was a push in the right direction. A push McCoy gladly gave them in the form of Jim suggesting an evening chess match to Spock.

5. Chekov

McCoy was sitting in his office trying to find his way to the bottom of massive pile of paper work before the end of his shift. If he was lucky and no one managed to provoke any klingons, blow anything up in engineering, cause a dangerous chemical reaction in the science labs, get a nose-full of sex pollen, get bitten and/or attacked by any weird unknown life form on an away mission, or otherwise cause some freak accident he MIGHT get it done. With that many ifs involved he knew it was unlikely that he would remain undisturbed, and he was right. Halfway through filling out a supplies request a timid knock sounded on his office door.

"Come," he called out gruffly, hoping he could scare them away.

The door slid open and a nervous Ensign Chekov came in quietly. The door hissed shut behind him.

"What can I do for you, Ensign?" McCoy asked, still filling out his request form.

"Vell sir… I have a problem zat I vas hoping you could maybe help me vith." The young man stammered out, standing there next to the door.

"Sit down, Chekov. Of course you have a problem. What is it?" McCoy grumbled still working on his paperwork.

"I..I have some questions, sir…some questions about sex…" Chekov looked down at his fidgeting hands.

"Ok…what do you want to know?" McCoy asked.

"Umm… vell, uh…I vant…my boyfriend and I…vhat is it like between two men, sir?" Chekov finally choked out.

McCoy sat there and tried to remember how to be professional, "You're 18 and a genius navigator on a starship, surely _someone_ has explained sex to you at some point in your life?"

"I know how it vorks wiz a voman, I had girlfriend at ze academy, but it vould be different vith a man, da? I know how it is down vith a man in theory, but…nozing else," Chekov shrugged sheepishly.

"So, what exactly do you want to know about it…it's sounds like you know how it works, and you have some experience… the mechanics of it aren't too different from heterosexual intercourse…" McCoy sighed inwardly; he hadn't signed up to give awkward sex ed. to confused ensigns.

Chekov sighed and looked down, "It sounds like it vould hurt. I do not know vat to expect, I am scared. I love him and I vant to do zis vith him, but I am scared…"

McCoy looked at him with all seriousness, "Then why aren't you talking to _him_ about it? If you can't communicate with your partner, they won't know if they're hurting you or not. If you can't talk to him about your fears then you're not ready to do this. Besides, as long has he takes his time and uses plenty of lube it shouldn't hurt, if it's painful in a bad way then he is doing something wrong."

Chekov said nothing. McCoy went over to a cabinet on the office wall and pulled out a package of condoms and a copy of Star fleet medicals pamphlet for 'Safe Sexual Relations between Humanoid Males'. He handed them to Chekov.

"Read that," he said pointing to the pamphlet, "it's clinical, but the information is accurate. And when you are ready, use those," he pointed to the condoms.

"Yes, sir," Chekov replied, getting up. He turned back to McCoy before he reached the door. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Chekov?" McCoy asked.

"Have you… have you ewer been vith a man, sir?"

McCoy looked down at his desk; The question was extremely personal, but the kid needed reassurance,"Yes. A long time ago…"

Chekov nodded, "Did it feel good?"

McCoy began fidgeting with his stylus and blushed, "It felt…odd at first, but, uh, yeah it felt good."

"Did you love him?"

"Don't you have work to do somewhere?" McCoy asked gruffness firmly back in place.

"Yes, sir!" Chekov responded as he scampered out the door.

McCoy regretted scaring the kid, but his questions had dug up old memories that he would rather not think about. That had been a long time ago, before the divorce, before Jocelyn. That was another time and what felt like another life entirely. So much had happened in his life in 10 years. When he thought about it he felt so much older than just 32.

* * *

+1 Gaila

Gaila sat on the bio bed in front of him; her leg was a bloody mess. The cut wasn't too deep, but it was long. She had been repairing a something-or-other conduit (McCoy was a doctor, damn it, not an engineer) when a fuse had blown next to her. Startled, she jumped and slid down the Jeffries tube, catching her leg on something sharp. It had cut an angry dark green line up her thigh which didn't want to stop bleeding. For the first time in his Starfleet career, Leonard McCoy cursed the short uniform dresses female officers were expected to wear. Had Gaila been wearing pants the cut might not have been as bad.

He carefully wiped the blood away from the laceration as he ran the dermal regenerator over it. It would take another pass or two with it before the cut would be fully healed. It was amazing how pale green her skin was in contrast to her blood.

"Does it feel any less painful, Lieutenant?" McCoy asked.

"A little," She replied.

"Good. It will be tender for a few days and you should stay off of it for the rest of today. I wouldn't have to fix it again." He instructed; eyes firmly fixed to what he was doing. It was a good thing Starfleet required female orions aboard starships to take pheromone suppressants, fixing the cut on her thigh would be impossible otherwise.

He was just staring another pass with the dermal regenerator when he felt a warm hand caress his hair. He refrained from making a happy noise at the feeling of finger nails lightly scraping his scalp. He looked up from his work to see Gaila smiling sweetly at him.

"Lieutenant…" He questioned, eyebrows knit together.

"Doctor," She replied, moving her hand over his hair again, "I know your secret Doctor," She smiled wickedly.

"And what secret would that be, lieutenant?" He asked gruffly.

"Secretly under the gruff, bitter, angry façade is a kind hearted, compassionate idealist with an innate need to help people." She sat up and cupped his face with her long green hand. A confused look spread across McCoy's face.

"I understand why you hide in there, I know she hurt you. Only a truly heartless bitch would hurt someone so beautiful. I know that you would rather be lonely than go through that again. It's a shame really. I envy what she had. I wish I had someone in my life who loved me half as much as you loved her, even for just a minute. Out of all of the people I've been with not a single one loved me. I was just a novelty to them. When I finally did tell someone I loved them, they told me I was weird." She gave a weak laugh.

McCoy was standing looking at her, stunned. She held his hand in hers keeping him close to her. She pulled him closer and reached up to touch his face with her other hand. She reached around to grasp the back of his neck and pulled him into a bittersweet kiss. He was too shocked to respond. She started to pull away when he threaded his fingers into her fiery hair and pulled her back. All the hurt, all the heartbreak and loss he felt flowed into the kiss. In that moment he realized just how much he needed this, wanted it. Gaila gently broke the kiss.

"You don't deserve to lonely, and neither do I. I would make me very happy if you would eat dinner with me tonight." She said looking into his expressive, hazel eyes.

"I'd like that to…" He responded, pulling her into another kiss.


End file.
